Throwing in the Towel
by RosieRathbone
Summary: What started off as a fun activity, soon became much more and the reason that Edward Cullen's life turned upside down. A prologue to White Collar Boxing. The story, before the story.


**This is a story that I am excited to write, and if you read White Collar Boxing, then I hope you are too!**

 **Now, before we start I want to make a couple things clear. This is a prologue, so it is about everything that happened before White Collar Boxing - you don't need to have read that one first, but it might help. Before you start shouting, yes, we will be seeing Bella, however because she is his assistant, unfortunately she won't be appearing until later in the story.**

 **I have more to say, but I will leave that until the end. Until then, enjoy!**

 _"Throwing in the Towel: When a fighter's corner tosses a towel into the ring in order to stop the fight. It is usually due to their fighter taking too much punishment and is symbolic to surrendering."_

 **CHAPTER ONE**

 **NARRATIVE.**

 _March, 1986._

Esme Cullen's morning was interrupted by the ringing of the home phone as she came into the house after picking up a few essentials from the store. "Hello?" She answered, whilst balancing a bag of groceries under her arm.

 _"Mrs. Cullen, this is Stephanie phoning from Milton School. Would it be possible if you could come down here to discuss Edward's behaviour?"_

Esme rolled her eyes, agreed that she would be right there, and hung up the phone. In fairness to Edward, it was nearing midday, so he had done well to last so long. But for once it would be nice to go a week without a call from the school. Esme quickly put the chilled food away and left everything else on the counter top. She left to drive through the city of Rye, picturing all of the things that her son could have done and what the consequences would be this time. A couple days suspension? An expulsion? She was soon to find out.

Rye is a beautiful city in New York, a half hour drive away from the hustle and bustle of Manhattan. It has luscious greenery and some impressive looking buildings, along with its own amusement park built in the late 1920's. Esme and her husband, Carlisle saw it as the perfect place to raise their two children and as his agency business quickly grew, the family became more and more well known around the area. They would not describe themselves as strict parents, but they do have a reputation to uphold and so their children's behaviour was something they take very seriously.

She arrived at the brown-brick building and made her way into the reception where she met Stephanie and was led down the hallway to the Principal's office. She entered the room to find her seven-year-old son, Edward, hunched over on a chair with an annoyed look upon his face.

"Mrs. Cullen, thank you for coming so quickly."

Mrs. McArdle rose from her seat behind her giant oak desk and held out her hand for Esme to shake.

"I apologise in advance for whatever it is that Edward has done now."

Edward glanced from his feet up to the disappointed look on his mother's face and with a grumble he muttered the words "I haven't done anything."

"That is very hard for me to believe, Edward. We don't get sent to the Principal's office for nothing now do we?"

Mrs. McArdle answered the unspoken question with her arms crossed in front of her on the desk. "Mrs. Cullen, your son thought it was wise and funny to draw inappropriate pictures on the board whilst the teacher had left the room to collect some textbooks."

"It might not have been me." Edward mumbled, still exceedingly unimpressed at the situation.

"If it wasn't for the fact that you added your initials underneath the artwork, I might have believed you."

Esme rubbed her forehead in frustration. "How many times do we need to tell you that this kind of attitude is not acceptable? Last week you started a fight with another child and two days before that you insulted a teacher because of the way they dress. Your father and I will not stand for this anymore."

Nothing pains a child more than when their parents say how disappointed they are. Edward may have a bad attitude, but he still has a heart and he loves his parents more than anything. "I'm sorry," he apologized sincerely.

"Mrs. Cullen, Edward is a bright young boy and when he puts his mind to it, he can do exceedingly well in class. However his teachers and I both agree that something needs to happen to sort out his attitude."

"Of course; I completely agree."

Mrs. McArdle pulled some pieces of paper out from a plastic folder and slid them over for Esme to see. "The local sports centre has some fantastic classes for children, who probably have similar frustrations to Edward. I think he could really benefit from taking one of these classes"

0-0

That evening the family sat around the dinner table enjoying a beautifully home cooked meal and informed the others of what had happened during the day.

"I got an A in my English test." Rosalie happily informed her parents as she pierced a piece of potato with her fork. She was ten years old, top in all of her classes and with a very bright future in front of her.

Carlisle smiled warmly at his daughter. "Very well done. How was your day, Edward?"

The seven year old pushed his peas about the plate staring at the ceramic plate instead of at his father. "Fine."

"Edward used his artistic skills to draw some human anatomy on the blackboard." Esme filled her husband in on the days event. "And so the Principal feels it would be best if he took part in an activity for his anger."

"Like anger management?" Rosalie scoffed at such an awful idea. In her eyes nothing was ever going to change her brother's attitude. He would end up in a ill-paying job with no qualifications spending all the spare money he has on alcohol and cigarettes.

"Not exactly anger management, but perhaps something to help you let off some steam. Perhaps boxing. Lord knows, you could vent your frustration until the cows come home."

"I don't want to do boxing."

"You never know Edward, you might enjoy it."

"I don't think I will." He replied to his father.

"But how do you know if you've never tried it? We cannot live our lives imagining how something will be until we try it."

Esme supported her husband's words as she cleared the table of dirty dishes. "Like Mrs. McArdle said - I think you could really benefit from the class. At least give it a go, and if you really don't like it then at least we can say that you tried."

The following Saturday, having been dragged away from his bed, Edward could scarcely have been less impressed when he walked into the room to see what seemed like hundreds of kids his age in padded head gear and with boxing gloves tied around their hands. He was the sort of boy who found socializing with older children much more interesting than people his own age.

Edward looked up to his mother with a frown on his face, "Do I really need to do this?"

"It's either this, or detention. Either way you'll be in a room with other seven year olds."

He huffed out loudly and slumped against the gym wall. He could think of many other things he would rather be doing at ten o'clock on a Saturday morning. The two of them stood there in silence for roughly five minutes before a man in a well-worn tracksuit came over to greet them.

"Hi there, my name is Sam. You must be Edward?" He leaned over with his hands resting on his thighs and offered Edward a warm smile… which was not relayed by the stubborn child before him. He was a tall, well-built man with tanned skin and black buzzed hair.

Esme shook her head at her son's awful behavior, but it wasn't something she hadn't witnessed before. "We were recommended this by our school Principal, who thought it could work wonders on Edward's attitude in class."

Sam nodded his head sagely. "It does all depend on the effort that Edward puts into the class, but if he is willing to learn, them I am willing to teach him, and hopefully you can see some positive changes."

Before too long Edward looked like every other kid in that room; with padded head gear and large red gloves. He imagined it to be the longest hour of his life. Thankfully Sam chose for Edward to practise by himself instead of a group of nine or ten like everybody else, so at least that helped the situation slightly.

"I'll show you around the equipment at the end of the lesson, but for now I'm going to show you how to stand and get used to the gloves whilst punching." Sam crouched down to help Edward position his feet correctly with his right foot a step in front of his left. He then stood up straight and slipped his hands into some jab pads. "Keep your feet in that position, and use these pads as a target. When you throw your first punch you want to hit my opposite hand. So your left hand would hit my right, and your right would hit my left. Does that make sense?"

Edward nodded - he was still to mutter a single word.

"Okay, whenever you're ready."

Edward began punching away at the pads but after he had done a few Sam began to move his hands so that he had to aim higher, or lower, or to the side. He didn't want to admit it to anyone, but he slowly began to enjoy the game they had set up.

"Now that you've got the hang of things, I want you to imagine that these pads hold everything that annoys you. I want you to put in as much force as you can."

Edward thought about what frustrated him - school, his teachers, the way Rosalie treats him, and soon he could feel the strength that he threw into every punch.

Sam removed the pads from his hands and patted Edward on the shoulder, "That wasn't bad, y'know?" he smirked, "and remember, whenever you get angry you can use a pillow at home and punch it out. Just don't actually hit someone, please; I don't want your mom to come after me." It came out as a joke, but he wouldn't put it past the young boy to use physical violence if someone rubbed him the wrong way.

The class came to an end much quicker than Edward realized. Sam thanked him for coming and hoped that he would join them for the next lesson.

Despite what he thought originally, Edward enjoyed himself more than he wanted to let on. And so he did exactly as Sam suggested, and joined them for the next lesson.

And the one after that.

And the one after that…

0-0

 **You may have noticed that this chapter was written in 3rd person, but from now on it will all be in first person (mostly Edward's), and we will be witnessing a time jump starting from chapter 2.**

 **Now some of you may know this already, but for the past several months I have been battling severe anxiety and depression, and I've only just managed to get back into working part time, so I won't put a time stamp on when I'll be updating, simply because there are days that I cannot bring myself to do anything but lie in bed and cry, but trust me that I will be writing as much as I can, when I can.**

 **If you want to keep updated on news about this story, or if you just like reading my rambles, then make sure to become a member of my Facebook group - RosieRathbone FanFiction, and if liked this and you're interested in how Edward got to where he was in White Collar Boxing, then please let me know and leave this story a little review.**


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